Music to His Ears
by ItalianPrincess92
Summary: Despite all of his success and fame, Victor has always felt a sense of isolation from the rest of the world. But then he meets Yuuri, and everything changes. This is fluff


**Lord help me. I'm in YOI/Victuuri hell. Dedicated to my BFF Jess who has fallen into this abyss with me. ILY, girl.**

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Victor patted Makkachin on the head, who was lying by his side, before retreating under the covers. It had been a long day of practice and he was exhausted, but it was worth every minute. Day by day, Yuuri was sharpening his skills, and, more importantly, gaining much-needed confidence. Victor knew that Yuuri had the potential to be great. No. Scratch that. He already was great. Exceptional, actually. Yuuri just needed someone to give him that little push to break him out of his comfort zone. Still, Victor wondered if he was the right person for the job. The simple truth was that he was not a professional coach. His whole life, he had been merely a student. And contrary to popular belief, becoming a world champion figure skater before he could drive a car did not translate into an automatic qualification to teach someone else. Victor groaned, burying his face into his pillow. The doubts that he could handle such a responsibility were always there, but Victor couldn't afford the distraction. He had to focus on Yuuri and his progress. That was his only priority.

Fatigue blurred the edges of his vision, yet the moment that the warm cocoon of blissful unconsciousness enveloped him, Victor heard a shout from down the hall, with the door to his room sliding open with a bang just seconds later.

"Victor! It's here! Listen."

As Victor sat up and blindly fumbled for the light switch, Yuuri scampered onto the bed, his foot catching the end of Makkachin's tail in the process.

The poodle yelped, earning him a scratch behind the ears and a hasty apology from Yuuri. "Oops. Sorry, boy." He then turned his attention back to Victor, placing the laptop down on the bed. "Ayane reworked the music for my free program. Here."

Yuuri grabbed his earphones and reached up, securing them into Victor's ears, before pressing Play.

Victor closed his eyes, listening intently as the opening notes came through the device. It started off slow and sweet, the gentle tinkling of piano keys. It wasn't long, however, until the melody quickened, gradually creating a sweeping refrain that sent a tingle up Victor's spine. The tune flowed in peaks and valleys, weaving a story of personal triumphs and defeats. Victor remembered Yuuri saying that the piece was meant to represent his life as a skater. It was joyful yet sobering. Optimistic yet haunting. At one point, the music seemed to fade out, before flaring back to life one last time with the rich tone of a violin now accompanying the piano. The two instruments harmonized before the song swelled to its highest level, evoking a powerful sense of victory and accomplishment that seemed to hold the promise of a limitless future from that moment forward. It then finished, and Victor sighed, allowing the final notes to drift away into a peaceful oblivion.

Victor opened his eyes and was met with an expectant Yuuri, who was sitting back with his hands folded in his lap, waiting for the verdict. Victor then smiled and bobbed his head in approval, which caused a bright grin to spread across Yuuri's face.

"You really like it?"

Removing one of the earbuds, Victor nodded again. "I do. I think it suits you perfectly."

Yuuri glanced down, a rosiness coloring his cheeks. "T-Thanks. Well, I mean, Ayane deserves all the credit. She's super talented. Anyway, um, I wanted to wait until you heard it, but you know that part near the end?" Yuuri looked up and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The part where it gets really loud?"

"Yeah?" Victor replied.

"Um, well, that part," Yuuri started, clearing his throat, "is supposed to represent... you."

Victor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Me?"

"Mm-hm," Yuuri answered, fidgeting slightly. "After I failed at Nationals, I didn't think I'd ever skate again- at least competitively. But then when you said you'd be my coach, you gave me a second chance at my dream. I never thanked you for that."

Yuuri's words reached deep inside Victor's chest and tugged at his heart. In the few weeks since he'd arrived, Victor came to know how Yuuri struggled with opening up to others, often keeping his true feelings hidden in order to protect himself from getting hurt. So while Victor was certainly not expecting that from him, he nevertheless appreciated it, touched that Yuuri felt comfortable enough to share something so private.

With a small smile, Victor motioned to the empty space next to him. After a moment of hesitation, Yuuri moved closer, and as he settled in, he seemed to visibly relax. Victor passed him the earbud in his hand and then grabbed Yuuri's laptop, turning it around so that the screen was facing them.

"My mother always used to say that you could learn a lot about a person by the kind of music they listened to," he explained, a fondness in his voice. "I know it's kind of late, but what do you say? I think it'd be a good way for us to get to know each other even better."

"Oh. Um, yeah. Sure," Yuuri agreed, adjusting his earbud. "Do you want to...?"

"You go first," Victor said, nudging the computer over so Yuuri could reach the keyboard.

With his fingers hovering over the keys, Victor saw the tip of Yuuri's tongue poke out between his lips. Over the past few weeks, Victor recognized the adorable habit that appeared whenever Yuuri was deep in thought.

Yuuri then typed something into the search engine and as he waited for it to load, he leaned back, resting against Victor's side.

"Is this okay?" he asked, peering up.

Slipping an arm around Yuuri's waist, Victor smiled and nuzzled Yuuri's mess of fluffy hair.

"Perfect."

-o-

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, an hour had flown by, with the two playing their favorite songs for the other, their picks spanning both decades and genres.

Soon, however, Victor could feel his eyelids beginning to droop. They were having a nice time, but Victor knew that they needed to get some sleep in order to prepare for their training session the next day. He glanced down at Yuuri to suggest that they call it a night when he found that Yuuri had already beaten him to the punch.

Victor chuckled, and being careful to support his head, he lifted Yuuri from his shoulder and laid him down on one of his spare pillows. After removing Yuuri's glasses, Victor wrapped up the earbuds and shut the laptop, gathering everything and placing them on the nightstand. Lastly, he flicked off the lights and curled up beneath the blankets, ensuring that Yuuri was covered as well.

The gravitational pull of sleep was now greater than ever, but right before he gave in, Victor pressed a tender kiss to Yuuri's temple.

" _Spokoynoy nochi_ , my little katsudon."

-o-

Victor awoke the next morning to the early rays of dawn streaming in, unobstructed, through the large window above his bed. As he went to turn, Victor quickly discovered that he couldn't even budge. There was a heaviness around his bare torso, something holding him in place. Blinking slowly to adjust to the harsh light, Victor opened his eyes. A nest of dark hair was the first thing he saw, and Victor had to fight the urge to laugh. Yuuri was the culprit. Sometime during the night, he had inched closer to Victor, eventually throwing his arm across Victor's middle, effectively trapping him. But Victor didn't mind. He marveled at how the golden light from outside illuminated the bed in small squares, matching the checkerboard design of the window, with one square shining directly on Yuuri's sleeping face. Victor stared at the other boy in unabashed adoration, wanting to preserve the image before him to his memory forever: Yuuri's soft, round cheeks, long, silky eyelashes, the faint smattering of freckles that were only noticeable from such a close proximity. Every part of him was mesmerizing and Victor was not too proud to admit that he was absolutely taken. Unable to hold himself back, Victor reached up and brushed a few strands of hair out of Yuuri's eyes, the gentle contact setting off a flutter in his stomach. It was a familiar and pleasant sensation, something he experienced anytime Yuuri was near. It had been a little over a month since they first met, but for Victor, it seemed much longer. Like they had known each other for years. In truth, he couldn't even imagine life without Yuuri now, nor did he want to. Yuuri was incredibly special, and when he thanked him for all Victor had done for him, all Victor could think was how he had yet to show his gratitude for the many ways that Yuuri had helped him in return.

At the close of the last competition season, Victor had a lingering suspicion that it would be his last. Nearly a decade and a half of competitive skating had taken its toll, and now, at the ripe, old age of twenty-seven, the physical effects of such a demanding sport were becoming harder to ignore. Not to mention the new crop of young, talented skaters that were emerging onto the scene and capturing the world's attention. To many, Victor was past his prime, and despite the accolades bestowed upon him by millions, including the prestigious title of "Living Legend Victor Nikiforov, The Greatest Athlete of Our Generation," there was still an unspoken expectation from the skating community for him to take a final bow and step aside. Still, Victor had reservations about hanging up his skates for good. He had dedicated his entire life to his career, sacrificing everything to achieve his goals. Numerous devastating injuries threatened his future, but Victor took those setbacks and used them as motivation to recover and guarantee that he returned to the international stage time after time. Whether he liked it or not, skating defined him. And at first, the thought of one day not having it to fall back on sent him reeling. It left him with a cold emptiness, almost as if someone close to him had died. But now, that aching feeling of loss and fear of being without his safety net was not so paralyzing, thanks to Yuuri. Starting from the moment he watched Yuuri skating to his routine that won him the latest World Championship, it ignited a spark of curiosity that compelled Victor to pack up two small bags and Makkachin and take the ten-hour flight from bustling St. Petersburg to the sleepy town of Hasetsu. It was a risky move, but Victor knew if he didn't take that leap, he would regret it for the rest of his life. And thus far, Victor didn't regret his spontaneous decision in the least. Yuuri was not only a brilliant student but also a teacher in his own right. By just showing him kindness and offering encouraging words regarding his coaching style, Yuuri gave something to Victor that he had been craving for quite some time: hope. Hope for his future and the belief that there was more to him than just his skating legacy. In the grand scheme of things, it seemed so insignificant, but for Victor, it meant everything, and he felt as though it was something he would never be able to repay.

Hoping to get a bit more sleep, Victor raised his arm above his head to shield his eyes from the sun. But then he caught a glimpse at his watch. He bit his lip, suppressing an annoyed groan. It was later than he'd originally thought, and he knew that Yuuri wanted to get over to the Ice Castle as soon as possible to start practicing.

"Yuuri..." Victor murmured, rubbing small circles into his back. "Time to wake up." No response. Hm. Employing a different tactic, Victor alternated between gently prodding at his shoulder blades and snaking his hand up and down his spine. "Yuuri...?"

"Mmm..." Yuuri whined. "Five more minutes..."

"Come on, _zvezdochka moya_ ," Victor cooed. "Rise and shine. I hear there's a steaming bowl of katsudon with your name on it waiting for you."

The mention of his favorite food did the trick. Yuuri rubbed his eyes and yawned before dragging himself out of his stupor, coming face-to-face with his coach and idol. "Victor...?"

"Ohayo, Yuuri-kun," Victor said, trying to perfect the Japanese greeting that Yuuri had taught him. "Was that right?"

But Yuuri didn't seem to hear him. Rather, his complexion flushed dark red in embarrassment as the realization of where he was, and how close they were to each other, set in. As if someone had given him an electrical shock, Yuuri pulled away and drew his arms as close as he could to his body, his eyes doubling in size. He almost looked like he might cry. "Victor- I-" Yuuri stuttered, the words melting away on his tongue before they even had a chance to form. "I'm really sorry. I must have just passed out last night- I- You could have woken me. I would have gone back to my room."

Victor waved his hand as if shooing away his apology. "Don't be silly, Yuuri. The bed is plenty big enough for the two of us. Besides, I love having you as my cuddle partner."

Yuuri squeaked, and Victor had to press his lips together to quell the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"So..." he continued, pretending not to take notice of Yuuri's flustered expression. "Did you sleep well?"

Composing himself, Yuuri smoothed down his hair and nodded. "Pretty good. I had a dream. About the Grand Prix Final."

Victor shifted onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Oh? Do you remember what happened?"

Yuuri made a small noise at the back of his throat that sounded like disbelief. "Yeah. I... got first place."

"Really?" Victor's eyes lit up and he gave Yuuri's shoulder a celebratory pat. "That's amazing. That should give you a boost, huh?"

Yuuri's smile faltered and his gaze dropped to the pale yellow sheets. "It was just a stupid dream, though. There's no way I would ever actually win gold."

Victor frowned, taken aback by his sudden mood shift. How could he say such a thing? "That's not true, Yuuri."

Reaching over with his free hand, Victor cupped Yuuri's cheek and gently ran his thumb over his porcelain skin.

"You underestimate just how incredible you are," he whispered.

Yuuri stilled as a furious blush began to creep up his neck. "I-I don't know if I would use that word. I mean-"

"Shh," Victor cut in, his voice soft. "Yuuri, listen to me. You have the same chance of winning as anyone else. Even better, in fact. The passion you have for skating is unlike anything I've ever seen. You put your heart and soul into every routine and that is clear whenever you're on the ice - to me and to everyone else. I believe in you, Yuuri, and you need to believe in yourself too. Okay?"

A few seconds of silence stretched out between them before Yuuri looked up, a shimmer in his brown eyes. "Thank you."

Moving his hand from Yuuri's face, Victor instead took ahold of his slender wrist and brought his hand up to his mouth, placing featherlight kisses on the tips of his fingers. "You don't have to thank me, _moya lyubov_ _'_. I meant every word."

Victor squeezed Yuuri's hand in a wordless reassurance before releasing him from his hold.

"How about we get some breakfast and then head over to the rink, hm?"

Sitting up, Yuuri hummed in response. "Sounds good. I'm just gonna run and get dressed first, okay?"

"Sure. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a minute."

Yuuri smiled, and after he collected his glasses and laptop, he scurried from the room.

Once he was alone, Victor flopped down on his pillow. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe the childlike grin that was plastered on his face.

Makkachin stirred and crawled onto Victor's chest, showering his owner with excited and slobbery licks.

"Oh, Makkachin..." Victor said, stroking the poodle's fur. "I'm a gone man."

Victor had accepted long ago that Yuuri owned his heart. But Victor had given it over to him freely, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

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